


Shaking From the Waist Down

by fereldenpeach



Series: Evelia Trevelyan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Dorian's fine ass, Drunkenness, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23810950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fereldenpeach/pseuds/fereldenpeach
Summary: Who'd have thought that dragon-slaying celebrations could be so emo.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s), Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, cullen - Relationship
Series: Evelia Trevelyan [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/822666
Kudos: 6





	Shaking From the Waist Down

The Herald’s Rest was alive in celebration, packed to capacity to congratulate the Inquisitor and her party for the latest high dragon slaying. Vibrant, up-tempo music floated between the cacophony of voices, melding into one jovial song of praise and admiration. Hands were clapped in felicitation, calls for speeches were swatted away in favor of humbleness, and Evelia, Iron Bull, and Varric all appreciatively accepted each and every round of ale that their Skyhold residents were willing to offer.

The Inquisitor stood nestled between the tavern’s patrons, fingers wrapped tightly around the wooden tankard, pulling in a long drink of the cool caramel liquid that was quickly loosening her limbs, her lips, her inhibitions. She scanned the room in search of golden curls, a dark fur mantle, or the warm and solid gaze from amber eyes. And her heart thrashed in anticipation, a nervousness hitching a ride along the alcohol traveling throughout her veins. But he was nowhere to be seen—no playful chiding sounding at her ear, no longing glance catching her from across the room—none at least from her stifled position amongst her people. But the rich timbre of her favorite magister caught her attention and prompted a hasty and half-thought-out plot for a better view.

“Dorian!” she shouted, up-ending the empty cup—her fourth—and slamming it on the nearest surface. “Dorian!”

The magister cocked a brow in her direction, his mustache quirking in a mischievous grin.

“Dorian!” she shouted again, her arm slithering between tavern patrons until she could latch onto the crook of his elbow. “You dirty, beautiful creature—come dance with me!”

“Ah! You maim me! _I am not dirty, Ev_ —” Dorian said with a teasing scoff as she pulled, dragging his drunk, Tevinter ass with her in an effort to clamor atop the closest table. Half empty tankards of ale clattered to the floor as their boots found their footing, the sound of metal against wood muffled by the cheers of the crowd and Evelia’s laughter.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” she whispered with a knowing smirk.

“What?!” yelled Dorian, unable to hear her above the noise in the room.

“That’s not what I’ve heard!” she repeated as loudly as possible.

“Fasta vass—you gorgeous and incorrigible woman!”

Dorian tugged at her hips, his own swaying with the music. And he began to dance with her—hands resting appropriately in all the right places, pelvis only _barely_ grazing against her own.

“Have you seen Cullen?” Evelia asked.

“That overworked and undersexed tall drink of handsome?” Dorian smirked. “Keeping an eye out for the Commander, are we?”

Evelia pulled in the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth and revealed a guilty glint in her eye.

“Not to worry, darling. Your secret is safe with me. And Bull.”

“Ugh, you do tell him everything, don’t you?”

Dorian chuckled and pulled away from her, twirling her out only to spin her back in—this time draping his arms around her front to hug her from behind in a playful and intimate embrace. He whispered his own secrets into her ear which sent her red locks cascading further down her shoulder blades as her head dropped back with a laugh. The crowd watched, half amused at the display before them, half jealous of the man indulging her only for appeasement’s sake—without any ulterior motives or lustful desires.

And Cullen stared up at them from a darkened corner table nearest the door—the only space available from his late arrival to the exuberant festivities thrown in Evelia’s name. He thumbed the handle of his tankard, disappointment riddling his features and quickly settling into defeat. Resigning to offer his congratulations to her party in the morning and instead leave for a recounting from Solas who had retired to his chambers early, Cullen moved to stand.

But a grunt sounded and the large mass that was Iron Bull slid into the chair next to him—the wooden legs creaking precariously underneath his weight.

“Would you look at that?” said Bull, slurping in the frothy head of his ale.

Cullen said nothing, a scowl forming on his brow.

“Redheads man,” remarked Bull as he absorbed the sight across the room. “You know they say that blondes have more fun, and brunettes are better to remember, but redheads? Redheads are all kinds of freaky in all of the best ways.”

Cullen glowered at the Qunari—in part for uttering such things about their Inquisitor and in part for learning that he was not alone in his entertainment of her in nearly every perverse and wanton fantasy.

Of course, he wasn’t alone. He had seen how each warm-blooded man and half the women had nearly eaten her alive with their attentive and hungry gaze. And her natural charm and oblivious flirtation had stolen away the hopes of longing for nearly all of Skyhold—their efforts tossed aside for companionships or friendly acquaintances. And Bull was the last person whose desires for Evelia—the Inquisitor—that he wanted to hear.

“I’m certain that it would be in all of our greatest interests to refrain from such discussions about the Inquisitor.”

Iron Bull chuckled. “Easy, Commander. All I’m saying is—” The Qunari leaned closer, pointing directly toward her. “That woman fights like she wants to be fucked.”

“What?” Cullen asked, completely taken aback.

“All that pent-up aggression exploding on the battlefield? Each time she releases her magic it’s an eruption of frustration that only temporarily sates her desires. But she’s wound up so tightly—a string to be plucked, an arrow to be loosed—and man, if you could have seen her face after we killed that high dragon. And here I thought _I_ was the only one aroused when slaying those great beasts.”

Bull turned his good eye to Cullen. “You know what she said?”

Cullen frowned, his patience for the conversation growing increasingly thin. “Enlighten me,” he huffed.

“Well, after a slew of obscenities that nearly made _me_ blush, she stood there, all cute and covered in dragon blood with a mad grin on her face and said, _I can’t wait to tell Cullen_.”

Cullen’s chest fluttered and he struggled to remember to breathe.

“She said that?” he whispered, nearly choking on the words.

Iron Bull’s hand fell to the top of the table with a loud and even smack, a hearty belly-laugh erupting on a spray of ale.

“Your eyes just lit up like fucking gaatlock! You’re crazy for her!”

“I—no—I mean,“ Cullen stammered, attempting to shake off his embarrassment.

“You’re alright, I won’t say a word. Not even to Dorian. Because clearly he already knows.”

Bull gestured to the pair still dancing atop the table—Dorian flashed a grin to the pair still seated across the room.

“All I’m saying, Commander, is that she’s been all but throwing herself at you, casually mentioning you on our missions as if you’re always the first to cross her mind. And she needs to be fucked. Even complained about it yet turned me away when I offered. You’re an intelligent sort, Cullen, but so fucking daft when it comes to _that_ woman. And if _you_ don’t make a move, someone else who strikes her fancy _will_.”

Bull stood and rejoined the crowd, parting patrons with his thick, trunk-like body and started them off with an uproarious song—flagons, tankards, and goblets swinging in the air and occasionally splashing on unsuspecting heads. But by the time Cullen had glanced back up to where Evelia had been dancing, she was gone.

An opportunity missed. But perhaps not entirely. He stood from the table and shouldered his way through the throng to exit the tavern, leaving the celebration he knew would continue throughout the wee hours of the morning.

Evelia loosed Dorian’s hand and swam her way across the room through giggles and words of admiration, shrugging off hands clapping to her back and slithering along to softly touch her anchor. And just as she had reached the table where Dorian had previously spied Cullen, she found it vacant, completely devoid of any evidence of his presence.

So, she approached the doorway, staring out into the darkened night draped delicately over her beloved Skyhold—a pained longing washing away her joyous celebration that she had so desperately hoped to share in with the only man she _ever truly wanted_ ….

**Author's Note:**

> Old content from Tumblr consolidated into AO3.
> 
> Title inspired by [ Infatuate by IYES ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbGU65GNETI)


End file.
